


Ironing Out the Creases

by ingberry



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Domestic, Established Relationship, M/M, Slice of Life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-11
Updated: 2014-01-11
Packaged: 2018-01-08 08:34:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 866
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1130507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ingberry/pseuds/ingberry
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Part of Merlin misses his flat – his previous flat – where he woke up by the natural light of day through the huge window, at exactly the right angle. But the new one has its advantages too.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ironing Out the Creases

**Author's Note:**

  * For [giselleslash](https://archiveofourown.org/users/giselleslash/gifts).



> This is for you, Gigi! It's only a tiny little thing, but it's yours anyway. I hope you have a fantastic birthday because you deserve it, and I love you because you're amazing. ♥

The little reading light clipped to his book slants sideways and Merlin reaches out to steady it. He presses the book against his knees, holding his finger over the line he’d stopped on and looks up, peering out into the rainy evening. There are cold gusts of wind travelling over the city, taking the rain with them into cold showers moving sideways under the street lamps. 

Merlin tucks his blanket tighter around his legs as a particularly strong gust makes the rain look like a cloak billowing down the street. The digits on the alarm clock by the bed hit eleven. The light from the numbers is harsh and unfamiliar, and he knows the alarm will go off at 6 in the morning. 

Part of him misses his flat – his previous flat – where he woke up by the natural light of day through the huge window, at exactly the right angle. He’d never needed an alarm, as he’d always wake up squinting into the brightness of morning. He missed the warmth of it, how the size of it was perfect for him, and how it had stuck with him through a number of things.

Now there’s a new street, a new window where the light only comes through at 10, and it’s much too big to be just for him. 

The bed creaks and Merlin looks over to see Arthur shifting restlessly. The cover has slid down to his hips, draped over him haphazardly. His right knee peeks out the side of it, and his entire torso is uncovered. Merlin curls his fingers over the top of his book, tucking his chin down as he smiles, unable to fight it. 

There are things that don’t line up very smoothly at all. Arthur is annoyingly tidy at times (but forgets about the dishes), and frighteningly obsessive about his hair products. He watches footie with the volume too high, and likes his food too spicy. Arthur goes to bed at 10 and gets up at 6, which Merlin thinks is just some fanciful sort of torture.

But it’s OK. 

They’re ironing out the creases. 

Merlin is slowly building a nest of take out menus from places that offer both spicy and non-spicy options. Arthur bought him noise-cancelling headphones for his tablet to use during footie matches, and his little reading light for nightly reading endeavours. 

Before Arthur sleeps, they fuck, if they want. And in the morning, Arthur’s torturous alarm will make Merlin gnash his teeth, but then Arthur will soften the blow by nuzzling against his shoulder and whispering “just a little longer,” his breath leaving goosebumps in its wake. 

Arthur has one arm slung towards the headboard, his head resting against it. His lips are parted, barely, and graze the skin of his upper arm. Merlin can’t explain why, but it’s different to have Arthur in a bed that belongs to both of them, rather than one that belongs to only one of them. The fact that Arthur feels safe enough to let his guard down in a space that’s theirs, is something Merlin doesn’t get used to. It’s his, but it’s Arthur’s too. Arthur walks around in his jogging bottoms after work, he curls up on the right side of the sofa, and he sleeps quietly on the right side of the bed. 

Arthur will fall asleep while Merlin curls up in the chair and reads. And Merlin will read until Arthur’s breath evens out, and the flat grows quiet, and the sated content of an orgasm has long since settled in him. He’ll read until his eyes droop, and the spot next to Arthur is open and tempting. 

It’s always open. Theirs is a flat for two, with space on the sofa, space by the kitchen table, and a space for Merlin to slip into when Arthur is already warm with sleep. 

Merlin presses the little button on the light and closes his book, leaving it on the chair. As he gets undressed, he folds each item of clothing and puts it aside, knowing Arthur will huff about clothing on the floor. He shivers when he’s down to his boxers, suddenly wanting nothing else than to climb in under the covers. 

He slips into bed, finding it rather warm still from when they’d exchanged lazy blowjobs a few hours ago. The warmth from Arthur has kept it comfortable, and Merlin moves closer. He sits up a little, curls his fingers around the edge of the cover, and pulls it over them both. Arthur frowns in his sleep and Merlin gives a quiet huff of laughter. 

Tucking his freezing feet in between Arthur’s legs, he gives a hum of relief and slots himself in behind Arthur. Right now, he curls around Arthur’s warm body, wraps his arm around his chest and presses his lips to his shoulder, but he knows that in the morning, he’ll wake up with Arthur curled around him, limbs everywhere. 

And maybe he won’t be woken by the natural brightness of day, but Arthur’s breath will tickle his neck, fingers will move in little patterns on his skin and when Arthur gets up he’ll kiss Merlin’s shoulder like it’s something precious.


End file.
